


two types of heat

by V_e_s_a_n_u_s



Series: Whumptober 2018 [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fever, Flirting, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_e_s_a_n_u_s/pseuds/V_e_s_a_n_u_s
Summary: Day number 8 of #whumptober! Prompt was fever!Dorian gets sick and Bull comes to look after him, but finds out that the looking after he had in mind isn't exactly going to work out. He doesn't mind, though.





	two types of heat

“Damn this cold,” Dorian said furiously rubbing his reddened nose with a handkerchief.

The Inquisitor had marched them into the Free Marches, taking no regard for whether they’d told Dorian  _ where _ they were going so he hardly dressed for the occasion (as per usual). But before he knew it they were on a not-so-frozen lake in the middle of nowhere and he stepped badly on a thin piece of ice. He slipped and with an ungraceful thud, cracked through and fell into the freezing water below. When they finally,  _ finally  _ got him out, he was soaked through and almost frozen. He thought the worst was over with. 

But now he was back in Skyhold because he was sick.

He argued with the Inquisitor that no, thank you, he was fine, but the mage was banned from coming with them until he was better. Dorian couldn’t exactly complain now. He was actually really glad at this point: it had got much worse since then.  

It started with snuggling in a mountain of blankets, having warm towels or enchanted objects brought in to warm him up. That he didn’t mind so much. He was used to being cold, in the South. He didn’t know how the others could  _ stand  _ it. Every day it was wake up, cover yourself in layers and then step out into the inevitably biting cold that rendered his extra layers useless anyway. He’d got used to that, and it almost reminded him of home too, having people wait on him to replace his towels with warmer ones.

What he couldn’t deal with was what happened next. He never thought he could be hot, here. Maker was he wrong. He had the most dreadful fever, as if fire was burning through his veins. That was what was happening now. He was topless, his torso glistening with sweat and trousers slung low on his hips (to protect his modesty, he wouldn’t want to scare the serving girls), since his blankets were tossed to the side. He was constantly parched, drinking as much water as he could just to assuage the heat just a little bit. The windows were open, letting in a chilly breeze that he didn’t feel on his burning skin.

He was hot, he was sweaty and he was  _ restless.  _ He wanted to  _ do  _ something, he hated being cooped up in here. He flopped onto his front, exasperated, sighing deeply. 

“Loving the view,” came a deep voice from the doorway. 

Dorian sighed again, more playfully this time, “Such a barbarian. Can’t even let a man get his beauty sleep.”   
“You look like you’ve had plenty,” Bull quipped, leaning against the bannister leading into his room with a raised eyebrow.

Dorian sat up and turned around, stretching as he did, “And when did you learn what a compliment was?” The qunari only smirked in response, so the mage continued, “What are you here for  _ despite _ disturbing my rest?”

The Iron Bull leant back on his hands, rocking back and forth slowly. Was he… uncomfortable? Surely not. “Boss said you were ill. Thought I’d better check up on you,” his eye met Dorian’s, “Check you don’t resort to blood magic to fix yourself. I know how impatient you can be.”

Dorian waved his hand in dismissal, sniffing as he did, “That wouldn't be the most efficient way to heal myself, anyway. No need to worry about that,” he continued petulantly, “I’d be more worried about me summoning a demon just to  _ entertain  _ myself.” 

“Oh is that right?” Bull laughed, “You’d become a maleficar for some… nooky?”

The mage laughed in response, eyes rolling, “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” 

“But could it?” 

Dorian was actually taken aback. It was very rare the Tevinter was rendered speechless, but this was one of those times. He recovered quickly, raising an eyebrow of his own in response, “So that’s why you came here. To proposition me in my quarters. My, Bull, you are  _ classy.”  _

“No,” The qunari approached the bed slowly, watching the man sit more upright on the bed, “I came here to take care of you.”

Dorian swallowed thickly, head filled with fluff. He was still sick, sniffling and sweating, and Bull wanted him like  _ this? _ He couldn’t believe it. He gaped softly. 

“Would you let me, Dorian?” Bull said slowly, mere feet away, “Will you let me take care of you?”

“I… er-” Dorian glanced away, before slowly bringing his eyes back and nodding, heart beating loudly in his chest.

A grin split across his face, “Who knew, all I had to do was ask nicely?” He cupped his cheek with a large hand, his thumb brushing over his lip. Dorian felt his pulse quicken, “You’re hot,” the Iron Bull said, almost surprised. 

“You hadn’t noticed?” Dorian looked mildly offended, but as Bull touched his forehead instead, he continued, “Well I am sick, after all. I’m not in here for fun.” 

“Hmm,” the qunari mumbled, before turning on his heel and leaving. 

Dorian was shocked, to say the least, “Was it something I said?” He muttered softly to himself, falling back against the sheets with a huff. He’d thought that… for a moment, he’d hoped that-

But then Bull was back, placing a cold flannel on his forehead. Dorian swore he could hear his skin hiss as the water hit his skin. “I-”

“Me, taking care of you,” Bull cut off. He paused for a moment, contemplating. “What would you like?” 

Dorian didn’t even think. Later, he’d blame his fever-addled mind, “Touch me.”

“Touch you?” Bull questioned, almost mocking, “Like this?” He said, pressing his index finger into his arm, “Or like this?” He stroked his cheekbone, “Or maybe... “ he said, pausing almost maliciously, “Like this?” He placed his large hands either side of Dorian’s ribcage, settled on his hips with a firm, but gentle grip. 

The mage felt  _ tiny.  _ Those hands were massive, holding him, pinning him down, if they wanted to. He loved it. But he also felt hot, very hot. He felt his own temperature rise a few degrees every time Bull placed those hands on him. 

“Yesss,” he hissed, almost writhing, though he’d never admit to it. 

Bull paused just to take in the sight. Dark skin gleaming with sweat under his massive palms, watching the muscles twitch beneath his fingertips. Dorian was almost panting, and he’d hardly touched him. He was so responsive. Bull was loving it. 

“Maybe,” Bull said, slowly trailing his fingers down the mage’s chest, “You’d also like-” his hands brushed the tops of his trousers and Dorian yelped. 

“I’m sorry!” He half-shouted, breathing hard, “I’m just- I’m just too hot. I can’t-”

Bull had withdrawn his hands in an instant, before he’d even started to explain. He gave a small smile, “That’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s-”

“No, really. It’s okay. You’re sick. I’m trying to make you better. If that won’t help you relax, I’ll find something else that will,” he cocked his head to the side, “Something less hot, perhaps?”

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian huffed, turning the flannel over on his forehead and covering his eyes just a little, hoping Bull wouldn’t notice his embarrassment (he did). “You’ll be the death of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave a comment or kudos if you did! XD


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